


muddle my heart (then add a dash of lime)

by C_AND_B



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: (no aliens so none of the luthors are alien hating maniacs), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-23 00:09:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15593904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C_AND_B/pseuds/C_AND_B
Summary: Kara sticks out more than a little in a bar filled with leather, and piercings, and a bar fight every five minutes (but she also has more than a little bit of a crush on the bartender there so she'll power through).





	muddle my heart (then add a dash of lime)

**Author's Note:**

> (paritally inspired by my sudden remembrance of lesley-oh's punk!lena works).
> 
> I don't know what this is, nor how I feel about it, but it exists so, as per, hope it's not shit, sorry for any mistakes, etc.

If anyone ever asked Kara how she ended up there in the first place she would tell them it was a long story. A long story involving the blind date from hell which ended in her refusing a ride home and instead deciding to brave a near torrential rainstorm in a light jacket - she gave up after five minutes and ducked into the first available bar. A bar filled with leather, and beards, and piercings and clientele which were arguably the exact opposite of everything that Kara was in her yellow sundress.

If anyone ever asked why Kara stayed in that bar? Well that was a far shorter story. The kind of story Kara had yet to admit to anyone but herself and the same story that was behind Kara returning to that very bar a further three times that week (that story being that the bartender was the prettiest woman she’d ever seen in her entire life).

Kara knew she fancied girls ever since the second grade when Siobhan Smythe asked to borrow her favourite pencil and she’d handed it over without question simply because she smelled like apples. Unfortunately it was also in the second grade, during that exact same pencil exchange, that Kara realised the moment she became aware of her crush on someone, she became a blubbering mess.

Now, Kara had always considered herself a people person. She got Winn to come out of his shell and then trust her enough to actually come _out_ to her in freshman year when he realised he liked the sight of James Olsen in his football gear way more than he actually enjoyed the game of football. She got Alex to forget her original distaste of a new girl infiltrating her home to the point that she began to consider home wherever Kara was. Hell, she even got Cat Grant to like enough to keep her on as an assistant years longer than anyone else lasted and then let her pick whatever job she wanted at CatCo.

People loved Kara.

Kara loved people.

But, when a pretty girl smiled her way, she got all kinds of confused and her tongue tied itself in knots to prevent her from saying something stupid, which inevitably just made her look even more stupid. That unavoidable tongue tie was also the reason that, despite returning to that same bar every other day of the week, all Kara had done was stare silently at the pretty bartender.

The prettiest bartender.

Black flowing hair that never seemed to be in the same style twice, the underside of it shaved in a way that had Kara zoning out thinking about what it would feel like to run her fingertips along it. Daring eyes that Kara had yet to figure out the exact shade of and a smirk that had made her spill her drink on herself a grand total of four times (okay, five... six).

More piercings than Kara had ever seen on a single person, let alone spent any amount of time thinking about how attractive she suddenly found them, especially the tongue piercing (and also, if she’s being honest, the one she discovered on a day she let her eyes wander a little too far and realised the woman was not wearing a bra - on that note, seven).

So Kara was a little bit in love with her, in spite of the fact that she had been avoiding any genuine human interaction with her at all. It had been going quite well, until it suddenly wasn’t, which really means that as Kara sipped on her water - the water that made her look even more out of place - she suddenly found a bright drink placed in front of her and an even brighter smile sent her way.

“You look tense, Pastels.” This woman had no flaws. She was somehow more attractive up close where Kara could see the perfect flick of her eyeliner, the sight mismatch of colours in her eyes and the almost not even there scar on her forehead.

And somehow, _somehow_ , it had apparently been decided by some all powerful deity or random chance in gene allocation that even her voice would be attractive, musical one might even say - like wind chimes, but nice wind chimes rather than the annoying ones the woman living above Kara stuck outside her window and refused to take down even after many complaints.

Kara certainly had no complaints now.

Except maybe one.

“Pastels?”

“Your sweater, kinda makes you stand out.” Kara will admit that she knew that. She knew that her sweater was eight shades too light and that the sweater itself was not an item of clothing she would ever be in danger of accidentally wearing on the same day as someone else. Kara knew that. She didn’t know that this woman had taken any time to pay attention. “And that blush.”

“I’m not blushing, it’s just... hot.”

“You could always actually take your jacket off for once.” Arguably yes, wearing both a sweater and a jacket was probably too many layers, especially when Kara had a sneaking suspicion the AC in the bar was having somewhat of a problem - if there was even AC in the first place. Kara decides to overlook the ‘for once’ that suggests Lena hadn’t been as oblivious to Kara’s recent many visits as she may have liked and instead follows the advice with an awkward smile. “Better?”

“Much,” Kara admits, before directing her attention to the glass in front of her. “What exactly is this?” If she were to describe it she would say it looked like liquid sunset, like the view from her old bedroom window back in Midvale but she imagined whatever this is packed more of a secret kick.

“Sex on the beach, thought it might loosen you up.” The drink is nudged slightly closer with a stupidly pretty but inherently proud smirk because of course that’s the name of the drink she would choose to place in front of Kara. _Of course it was_. This was karma.

“It’s very colourful.”

“Your sweater is baby pink, Pastels; I wasn’t about to hand you whiskey neat.” Maybe Kara shouldn’t complain considering she could still feel the burn in her chest from the last time Alex made her try scotch. Regret was the word Kara would use to describe that taste. So instead of complaining that her drink was playing into prejudices, she takes a healthy sip.

“I would say that’s judgemental but this is delicious.”

“I don’t want this to sound rude but how exactly did you end up in here?” She doesn’t hold back with the question but there’s no hint of malice in her tone and a genuine look of intrigue like she thinks Kara’s answer will be the most interesting thing she’ll hear that evening.

“The first time I was running away from a bad date but then I got here and I thought it had a really nice... ambience.” Kara winces when, as if on cue, a fight breaks out about five feet away from her in one of the darker corners of the bar. She cringes further when the unmistakable sound of a snapping pool cue echoes her way and is punctuated with a raised eyebrow from the woman in front of her. And don’t even get her started on the colourful range of threats that follow after - the same ones she knows she’ll be attempting to not run on repeat when she tries to sleep that night.

“Believable,” the woman deadpans, seemingly unaffected by the fight until someone’s beer bottle becomes a weapon rather than the home of a lukewarm beverage. “I should probably go stop that before someone rips up a sink again.”

“Rips up a sink?"

“If you happen to still be here in ten minutes I can tell you all about the spring sink massacre?”

“Sounds great,” Kara responds without hesitation, knowing she’d listen to this woman talk about her favourite cereal for an hour if only it meant she’d get to hear her voice. She grins into her drink when she finds herself alone, wondering too hard about how on earth she actually managed to talk to the bartender to notice the way the woman backs into a table on her way over to the fight, too distracted by Kara to think about her feet, let alone remember how to properly move them.

* * *

 

“Pastels, you came back.”

“Takes more than a sink horror story to scare me off...” Kara thinks she would listen to a thousand sink stories and just about manage to dodge a million stray punches if it meant she could learn more about this woman, and speaking of learning more. “I don’t know your name.”

“Yeah, turns out nametags promote people staring at my chest for inappropriate amounts of time.”

“I promise not to look if you tell me your name?”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” the woman says and from her tone alone Kara comes to expect the wink she receives. What she doesn’t expect is the way she pops open a button on her shirt slowly, then another as if to dare Kara to look down and _god_ does it take everything not to look. _She really wants to look_. Kara almost gives in when her hand tracks down her neck towards the open expanse of bare skin but instead swallows harshly, keeps the eye contact steady.

The woman chuckles at the display, a simple breathy laugh as she does one of the buttons back up.

Kara tilts her head in obvious question.

“It’s Lena, and you? What do the other cardigan wearers call you?”

“Kara.”

“Kara, I like it.” Apparently Kara did too when Lena was saying it. Loved it even. Suddenly wanted to hear it again and again and again. “Almost as good a ring to it as Pastels.” And apparently she was never going to get that wish because she was never going to live down that nickname. Not that she could really find it in herself to care, most words out of Lena’s mouth sounded better than they ever possibly could coming from someone else’s.

Lena disappears for a moment with a gesture for Kara to put their conversation on hold just for a moment, returns a couple of minutes later with a drink for Kara. It’s worse than the last one. A mismatch of colours decorated with an umbrella and a sliced orange that leaves Kara wondering if Lena was going to pull a sparkler from behind her back and light it up.

“Now you’re just mocking me.”

“It’s not from me this time,” Lena deflects, pointing to a man sitting at the end of the bar dressed in a blue suit and with so much gel in his hair that he manages to look even more out of place than Kara amongst leather jackets and ear spikes. Still, Kara offers a polite smile when he notices her attention and tilts his own drink in greeting, before she goes back to doing what she really came here to do (spend far more time than she should looking at Lena).

“Why?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why did he send me _this_?”

“I think it’s probably phase one in his flirting routine.” _Phase one in his-_

“Flirting? No, why would he-"

“Hi, is this seat taken?” Comes a voice from Kara’s right, masculine and a little cocky. She plasters on a smile anyway as she turns to the sound, attempting to ignore Lena’s vague murmur of _phase two_ before she moves all of three feet to ‘clean glasses’ in such an obvious way that Kara knows all she’s really doing is sticking around to amuse herself and watch how it all plays out.

“Not that I know of but I haven’t been here long so I suppose someone could be in the toilet.” Kara hears Lena snigger before she even realises that’s probably not the answer he was looking for. The man smiles in spite of her awkwardness, breathes a laugh like he’s under the impression Kara had made an incredibly lame joke as he takes the seat beside her.

And, okay, maybe Kara will concede that he was flirting.

“You new here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before and I’m pretty sure I’d remember you. You definitely stand out.” Kara really needed to stop wearing such bright colours here. She was sure she had a navy sweatshirt in her closet somewhere, maybe even navy pants, and Alex did convince her to buy black jeans at the mall the month before.

“It’s the sweatshirt.”

“I was thinking it was your eyes. They’re beautiful.”

“Thank you. Yours are nice too I guess.” That was a lie. Not that they were bad. His eyes were fine - brown, dark, pretty non-descript, unfortunately nothing like the ones she could feel burning on her as they watched the action play out. The action which seems to escalate before Kara even has a chance to acclimate to the current level as the man scoots obviously closer, slipping his arm casually onto the back on Kara’s chair with a level of ease that says this wasn’t his first rodeo.

 _Phase three_ , Lena mouths.

“How’s the drink?”

“It’s very _bold_.” Bright. Too bright. In your face and sugary enough to set Kara’s teeth on edge – which was saying something considering her admittedly appalling diet. Truthfully it was the worst drink Kara had ever tasted, including the concoction Alex brewed and dared Kara to drink during the week they shared grounded and stranded in their house during the summer of Kara’s sophomore year of high school (a grounding that she still maintained was completely and totally Alex’s fault).

“Speaking of being bold, how about you and I stop wasting time and go somewhere a little more- _Fuck._ ” He shoots off a few more choice words as he springs off the chair and assesses the amount of beer dripping off his suit from the tap that seemingly exploded out of nowhere. The tap Lena was standing directly behind with a face that couldn’t look any less apologetic if she tried, and also one that didn’t even look the slightest bit worried she had soaked her own shirt in the process.

“Sorry I’ve been meaning to fix the pumps.” The apology is insincere at best and Kara has to stop herself from laughing at the picture in front of her. A smirking Lena and a man who genuinely looked like he was five seconds away from stomping his foot petulantly.

“This suit was expensive,” he bemoans.

“Maybe you should take it to the bar up the street where the other expensive suits go.” For a split second Kara is sure Lena says the words. That is, until the man’s angry face spins towards her in shock before he disappears in a huff and Kara realises they came from her own mouth - which would definitely explain why Lena looked like she might fall over from laughing.“Was that phase four?”

“Probably not in his book but you looked uncomfortable so I improvised.” Lena lifts her hand up into view and Kara makes note of the wrench hanging limply from her fingers. _Busted tap her ass_. But, then again, previously busted tap or not, Kara finally takes the time to really take in the sight of Lena post ‘accident’ with her shirt wet and clinging to her chest.

_Her chest._

Kara wouldn’t have put on a nametag either.

“Oh god, you’re soaked. Here.” In hindsight, there was really no other way Lena was going to react to Kara taking off her sweatshirt and offering it to her, than with a face that wordlessly screamed _there’s no way in hell I am going to willingly put that explosion of colour on my body_. “Do you really want to stand around soaked in cheap beer?”

“Hey, I resent that. This beer is moderately priced,” Lena says, acting affronted before she accepts the proffered sweatshirt with a roll of her eyes and ducks below the bar to change, reappearing in a vibrant baby blue as opposed to her usual black and offering Kara a little twirl.

“It looks good on you.” It’s not a lie. Not a line to make her feel better. She genuinely looked amazing, better than Kara could ever hope to look, even if it was hers. It served to make her eyes look brighter and Kara’s eyes have extreme trouble looking anywhere other than the sliver of skin of Lena’s stomach on display where the sweater didn’t fit quite right.

(Kara felt a little lightheaded.

Maybe this was even worse than the tight beer soaked top).

“I’m never going to live this down,” Lena laments, flipping off a laughing man over Kara’s shoulder and only finding herself met with more laughter for the attempt. At least now they both had something they wouldn’t be living down anytime soon.

“I’m serious, you should wear more colour,” Kara pushes, desperate for some reason for Lena to believe the truth of her words - that reason being complete selfishness - and Lena is silent for a moment as she regards Kara with a small smile before carrying on like nothing had happened, like she wasn’t currently swaddled in a pastel sweater.

(When Kara comes in the following night and finds Lena wearing a khaki army jacket she supposes she’ll take that as a start.

An incredibly, _incredibly_ attractive start).

* * *

 

It startles Kara to see Lena outside of the bar, even if she’s still right next to it leaning on its wall. Honestly she doesn’t know why it feels so weird; it wasn’t like she was seeing her out in the wild – or whatever the human, not creepy sounding version of ‘out in the wild’ was.

The point being Kara had gotten used to seeing Lena in her element under half broken lights and surrounded by clientele that most people wouldn’t even let through the door. She’d never seen her like this. Eyes closed but still tilted towards the moon as her entire weight was slouched against brick like she couldn’t even be bothered to hold her own weight.

“Those will kill you, you know,” Kara says, in reference to the cigarette hanging limply from Lena’s hand and perhaps it’s not the coolest opening line she’s ever had but she’ll stick with it. Apparently Lena decides to stick with it too because she barely flinches at the sound of Kara’s voice, barely seems shocked that someone else appeared as she waves the cigarette towards Kara in some odd sort of greeting, all without even really turning to confirm her suspicions of who it is.

“My mother is in town.” It’s a comment offered without context or background but one that Kara takes as an invitation to stick around a little bit longer. She assumes she didn’t read the words wrong considering Lena finally tilts her head towards Kara as she comes to rest beside her, offering her a smile in greeting that Kara thinks is somehow prettier when she’s dressed in pale moonlight.

“And that means smoking?” Kara might have thought it an odd response to a visit if she were to only consider her usual excitement when Eliza came into town. She didn’t think it was so odd when she added Alex’s reactions to the mix - they generally ranged from genuine joy to a race with herself to get to the bottom of whichever bottle of alcohol she currently had stashed in Kara’s apartment, or a competition to see how many of the mini bottles she hid in the couch cushions she could drink before Kara stopped her.

(Currently her record was seven).

“Smoking. Heavy drinking. Preferably waking up in stranger’s bed so she can’t hunt me down at my apartment,” Lena says offhandedly, smirking slightly when Kara’s entire body freezes at the words. “Relax, Pastels, that’s wasn’t a proposition. _This time_.” She whispers the final two words, a quiet admission that Kara would believe she wasn’t supposed to here if it wasn’t for the impish look on Lena’s face like she was enjoying watching Kara blush a little too much.

“Why exactly are you hiding from your mother?”

“Aren’t I, the bartender, supposed to ask _you_ about _your_ woes?”

“My boss actually complimented me today; my sister is loved up with her new girlfriend and my landlord found out about my secret cat and told me I could keep him as long as he didn’t cause trouble so I’m doing great. Your mother?” Lena looks taken aback at the frank honesty, the complete disregard for Lena’s attempt to deflect and the immediate return to the question at hand. But she doesn’t close off like Kara worried she might, simply sighs like she’s resigning herself to the fact that tonight was the night she opened up to a pastel-clad patron in a dingy alleyway.

“Short story, she’s a bitch.”

“Long story?”

“She thinks I’m wasting my life, and my degrees, hiding at this bar instead of working in the family business full-time like she’s been priming me to do for years.  She’s probably not wrong, but I like hiding out at this bar and winning every poker night because the people inside don’t even consider that I can count cards as easy as breathing. Essentially she wants what’s best for me but she wasn’t raised to be warm so she always comes off as a bitch.”

It’s a lot to take in. A lot more than Kara expected to receive and yet all she can find herself to ask in return is, “family business?” She’s not sure why that’s what she’s stuck on. She supposes it probably has something to do with her insatiable desire to learn about Lena, the insane level of intrigue she has felt ever since she first laid eyes on her. Everything to do with her ever-growing crush.

“Didn’t you come here for a drink?” Lena deflects. Kara wonders if she realises all she really succeeds in doing is making her more curious about the answer. Still, she lets it go, instead replying, “I did.” Lena nods in response, stamping out the cigarette that ended nothing more than filter and embers.

It’s then that Kara thinks about the embers that danced dangerously close to Lena’s fingertips, takes note of the fact that Lena didn’t take a single pull during their conversation; instead she simply watched the glowing ash ebb ever closer to her hand. It’s then that she wonders if maybe that was the point, that Lena just liked to see how close she could push herself, how close to the edge she could stand.

It’s also then that she realises she’s being completely ridiculous and trying to make something profound out of what was probably just politeness – probably wouldn’t be so good for business if Lena stood around blowing smoke in customers faces.

“Come on then, first drink is on me. You can tell me all about this forbidden cat whilst I act all solemn and wipe the side down with some old rag.”

“Well, first off, his name is Streaky and I found him in an alleyway...”

* * *

 

It’s different in the day. The bar that is. It’s still hidden in an alleyway that most people wouldn’t dare go down and decorated with muted tones and a few neon signs. The jukebox in the corner is still broken and even with the no smoking signs up on the walls; the bar still seems to be filled with a lingering film of fog that suggests people have been ignoring them.

It’s quieter, Kara supposes. Fewer people crowd in the back corner and no one seems to be on the verge of causing an all out bar brawl anytime soon, simply happy to smack a few balls with the pool cues and vaguely moan as they lose out on money from a bad bet.

Kara thinks there’s something actually quite calming about the place in the day but honestly Kara would be lying if she said she wasn’t somewhat attached to the hole in the wall bar and all of its rather colourful clientele by now - if the cheers her arrival receives are anything to go by, they were starting to become quite fond of her too.

“Pastels, you’re here a little early, karaoke night doesn’t start until seven,” Lena says, smile already firmly on her face, the welcoming smile that Kara always seemed to feel was just for her (she had a feeling Lena was very good at making every woman who came in feel that way).

“You have karaoke night?”

“Hal loves it,” Lena insists, pointing to the bearded man playing pool in the back of the bar. Covered in tattoos and a good few inches taller than all his friends, his smile is still ridiculously cheery as he raises his beer in a silent hello and Kara doesn’t hesitate to wave back. For all his appearance suggests Kara knows that he’s still the man who stood outside with her a few nights ago for twenty minutes waiting for her cab to arrive just to make sure she got home safe.

(She really needed to come watch him sing.

She prayed he took requests).

“As much as I’m dying to hear all about the concept of that, I’m actually here for work.” Kara raises her pad and pen into Lena’s view. She won’t lie and say that she found herself here on accident. She won’t lie and say that she didn’t jump at the chance to take this story. She also wasn’t just going to outright admit that to Lena right off the bat. She couldn’t show all her cards.

“You’re the reporter?”

“Surprised?”

“A little. I really had you pegged as a scientist; you actually just lost me ten bucks.” Kara would be lying if she said her heart didn’t skip a beat or two throughout that sentence because Lena was making bets about her. Lena was making bets about her which meant that she was talking about Kara to people, which meant that she thought about her when she wasn’t there and...

And Kara was spiralling.

“I work on the science column if that helps at all.” Science had always been somewhat of a comfort to Kara. It was her link back to her birth parents and the link she first built between herself and her new family, the basis of the first conversation she and Alex had without argument (and the basis for many arguments they had thereafter).

Science was something that had always made sense to her but just as science made her feel safe, reporting made her feel challenged - it took effort, and perseverance and the courage to come out of her comfort zone. And so, when the opportunity arose to do something which combined two of her passions, Kara jumped at the chance.

“Why exactly did they send a science reporter for this?”

“Parker, the usual crime guy, just had a baby. Well, he didn’t _have_ one. His wife did all the heavy lifting having the baby and now he’s basking in the cuteness of ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes and someone had to pick up his slack - I offered and my sources sent me here. Apparently you’re the latest victim of the ‘National City Vandal’.” Kara wouldn’t claim it was the most imaginative name for the graffiti artist but the public seemed to be enjoying it and the ongoing chase.

“Vandal is a strong word. Come on, I’ll show you.” Lena gestures for Kara to follow her outside and she does so without question, her feet moving on their own accord until she gets outside and she finds them halting in place. It’s not what she expects. The graffiti. Now Kara wasn’t saying that she hadn’t read the previous articles about it (but she hadn’t read the previous articles about it), so to say she’s shocked to find a mural covering almost half the side of the bar would definitely be considered somewhat of an understatement.

“It’s... good.”

“Expecting something a little more phallic?”

“A little bit.” _A lot._ “Definitely not this.” In truth, Kara’s almost afraid to touch it. Her hand is gentle, a barely there presence as she allows her fingertips to graze the brick. The work is as phenomenal as it is unexpected - a rendering of what almost looked like a dystopian National City, one painted entirely with intertwining hues of red that swirled together like some remixed rendition of Starry Night. It makes Kara feel off balanced for a reason she can’t place. “Why hasn’t the owner had it painted over yet?”

“I like it,” Lena replies simply, her own eyes fixated on the piece.

“The owner left it up because you like it?” Kara doesn’t mean to sound so incredulous because it wasn’t exactly impossible that another person with eyes would be taken enough with Lena to allow her such but it was a little improbable that they’d allow something of this size to stay, especially considering it didn’t really fit with the broken beer bottle aesthetic the alleyway had.

“No I’m the owner and I like it so I left it. It’s not hurting anyone.”

“You’d leave it up just like that?”

“Whoever painted this obviously has some real passion and genuine talent. Not everyone can afford a fancy gallery space to hang their paintings in for the elite and the pretenders to enjoy, hell some people can barely afford to buy supplies. Why can’t people paint where they want? It’d certainly make the world more vibrant,” Lena finishes with a deep exhale and Kara can’t help but stare, amazed at this woman in front of her.

A woman built on a base of mystery and contradictions and hidden passions, like some honey pot trap designed to lure Kara in. A woman who can speak with such fervour, and seem to care so little about what people think about her, and yet still redden slightly when she notices Kara has stared in silence a beat too long to be normal. “What? Sorry, did you need me to act angry for your article?”

“No. No, it’s just- I just didn’t expect you to get so heated about the freedom of art. It’s cute.” It was cute. Not that Kara actually meant to say that out loud. Not that she regretted it slipping out as she watched a small smile paint itself onto Lena’s face because Lena’s smile was... something else.

It wasn’t like her smirk. Her smirk was calculated and self assured and more than a little cocky. Well practised and laced with ease - it was made to disarm and it did, but Kara would be the first to argue that this smile was far more disarming. Lena’s smile was spontaneous, quietly pleased and coated with nerves - it made Kara’s heart skip a beat and then another three just for good measure.

“Yeah, well, don’t tell anyone, Pastels. I think Carl is still a little upset someone painted over the penis he painted – I’m actually ninety eight percent sure he tried to paint a likeness of his own on one of those nights where he forgets there’s an actual bathroom inside the bar.” Kara knew those nights well. Too well. She was actually pretty sure those nights were the exact reason everyone avoided the alleyway, giving the ‘vandal’ time to paint the whole mural without a single person noticing (it was arguably also because everyone stumbling out was too drunk to care).

“Are you gonna leave it indefinitely?”

“I’m going to leave it until the artist comes back and decides they want to paint something new.”

Kara writes the article that night, her hands flying across the keys, painting a picture of the picture painted. She turns it on its head, writes more about the freedom of art than the actual crime at hand, and in spite of her efforts she admits she expects Snapper to take one look and tell her to start again. He doesn’t. He eyes her for a moment as he finishes reading. Thoughtful. Stoic. Then he nods. Kara finds her name gracing the articles by-line the next day.

True to her word, Lena leaves the painting untouched and unchanged. It stays that way for a week before the painting is changed ever so slightly by an addition in the bottom right hand corner - two women holding hands and overlooking the city before them. Kara doesn’t dwell on the fact that one adorns a pastel sweater and the other a khaki jacket and free flowing black hair.

(Well, maybe she does...

Just a little bit).

* * *

 

She’s not having a good day. Kara would, in fact, openly say that she was having a horrible day. The worst of days. The worst of the worst of days that sees her walking into the bar before a reasonable time for drinking, dressed in a tank top and yoga pants.

Lena isn’t there when she first appears; mumbling that she really doesn’t care what’s put in her glass as long as it’s strong and firmly ignoring the confused look on the bartenders face as he takes in her out of place appearance and request. He’s served her enough fruity drinks to know this isn’t her usual choice but she’s ordered enough drinks from him to know that he doesn’t have half the charm Lena does and will comply with the request without question, without any real words at all.

It becomes a wordless back and forth between the two of them for a while as Kara sips with a frown until Lena appears holding a fresh load of bottles and her usual quietly pleased smile aimed towards Kara - Kara can safely say she’s never quite worked out what she’s so pleased about.

“Pastels, you’re not... wearing pastels?” Lena seems genuinely perplexed and maybe a little bit of something else as she stares at Kara’s arms, for once not hidden by a loose sweater - not that Kara really takes the time to notice any of that, too engaged with her own thoughts.

“I came from the gym,” Kara replies shortly, taking another long, slow sip of her drink and sighing in silent thanks to no one in particular when it burns down her throat. She’ll probably regret these choices tomorrow but for now she was really feeling herself.

“Straight from the gym and into a bar, doesn’t that kind of defeat the point?”

“I needed a drink,” Kara says, as short as before, but it doesn’t seem to faze Lena in the slightest. Instead of taking offense to Kara’s uncharacteristically short replies, she simply leans on the bar opposite her; the back of her hand just grazing one of Kara’s that is firmly clasped around the almost empty cup and honestly, as stupid as it seems, Kara can’t help but let some of the tension drop from her shoulders at the hint of contact. _God she was so far gone_.

“Are you drinking straight vodka?” Lena asks incredulously, almost like she only just decided to take note of anything other than Kara herself, before turning ever so slightly to the bartender standing at the other side of the counter who answers Lena’s unasked question of how many with three fingers lifted into the air. “What exactly happened?”

“I punched a guy.”

“At the gym?”

“No I punched him at work, then I went to the gym hoping to blow off some steam, but it didn’t help so came here to drown my sorrows instead.” The gym had been Kara’s first thought. It was the place she always went when she wanted to clear her mind, think of nothing but the pull of her muscles and the sweat on her brow. The place where everyone knew not to bother her, at least, where her friends knew not to bother her, apparently her headphones weren’t enough to ward off other gym members - hence the sudden need for an abundance of alcohol.

“You punched a guy at work?” Kara sighs before nodding her head in a resigned yes. Lena, on her part, laughs openly and Kara finds her own mouth almost ticking up into a smile when she hears a snort somewhere in the mix. “Well shit, maybe you fit in here more than I originally thought.”

“In my defence, he was being an ass.” _A huge ass. The biggest of asses_. Like Kara had been known to overlook a lot of assery but couldn’t help but punch him in the face level of ass.

“I don’t doubt it. But, in the interest of my own amusement, please enlighten me with some details.”

“He’s new so I was trying to be nice, you know? Show him the ropes, make him feel comfortable; show him where to hit the coffee machine to make it work and where the good stationary is kept. The usual stuff. But it turns out the only thing he really wanted to find was my ass with his hand and, after three ‘ _accidents_ ’, I decided my fist should find his face.” Kara’s not really sure how it all happened in the heat of the moment. One second he was grabbing and then she was punching and he was on the floor crying a little bit. It was satisfying, Kara knew that much.

“I’ll be sure to stick to two then,” Lena jokes and Kara attempts to slap the hand closer to her in admonishment but finds it caught in Lena’s grasp. Her cheeks heat but she doesn’t make any move to pull it from Lena’s almost tender grasp.

“It’s not funny,” she mumbles.

“Was it a good punch?” Lena inspects Kara’s hand as she poses the question, her fingers dancing along Kara’s knuckles, searching for tarnishes and hunting for a hiss of pain that she never quite finds. Kara wasn’t one to brag but she was pretty good at punching - Alex had decided sparring was a good way to spend time very early in their shared childhood (Eliza had been less pleased about it).

“I broke his glasses,” Kara admits, swelling with pride a little when Lena laughs, to the point that she can’t help but smile too. So maybe it was a little funny. He did look stupid with smashed frames.

“Personally I think this deserves a picture for the wall."

“The wall?” Kara asks, playing into Lena’s smile, and watches as Lena pulls back and gestures with a grand sweep of her arm towards the wall behind her covered in photos underneath bold lettering that reads ‘ _FIGHT NIGHT!_ ’. It’s gaudy and ostentatious and the first thing Kara really thinks is that she must really be infatuated with Lena’s face to never have noticed it before.

“Technically it’s reserved for bar fights but I think I’ll make an exception for this. Say cheese!” Lena lifts a Polaroid camera, and despite the huffed sigh Kara exudes she still smiles nonetheless, fists raised in a fighting stance. Lena chuckles as the picture reveals itself, looking infinitely proud of the outcomes as she pins it directly to the middle of the board.

“That wall is ridiculous.”

“Well you’re on it now so you’re ridiculous by association.”

“What if I get fired?” It’s not the first time the thought had crossed Kara’s mind. It actually happened to be her first thought following the immediate satisfaction. Not that she regretted punching him. She very much enjoyed getting to punch him. It’s just that she also very much enjoyed her job - you know, the one that gave her immense satisfaction and also money so she could put a roof over her head and food on her table, the one she worked so hard to have.

 _(God, she really needed to not be fired)_.

“Then punch that person too,” Lena quips.

“You’re not helping,” Kara groans, despite the smile threatening to spill onto her face.

“You’re smiling though and I’d call that a win any day.”

“Thank you.” Kara’s words are sincere in their simplicity, the tone speaking to the truth that Lena had already helped a lot more than the workout or vodka had. And maybe she helps a little bit more when she drops her hand back onto Kara’s and squeezes (as much as she also completely hinders Kara’s reflexive efforts to get air into her lungs).

“Honestly though, Pastels, if you work in the kind of place where you get fired over the man who has worked there for five minutes and already sexually harassed you, then it’s not a great place to work. I mean, you only broke his glasses.”

“You’re right,” Kara sighs. She could always start a blog.

“And if you really want to work there, I could always just buy it. I hear frivolous purchases are what heiresses are supposed to do with their money.” It’s a flippant offer, one meant as a joke but also one that Kara has a feeling Lena could easily follow up on if Kara genuinely decided to accept. It’s an intriguing offer too, if only because it’s another insight into just exactly who Lena is, something that Kara still wants to know more than anything in her life.

“How much money is that exactly?”

“You’re the reporter, figure it out,” Lena taunts Kara’s obvious bait and instead of latching onto the temptation to do just that, Kara musters up her softest smile and replies, “I like hearing about it from you.” The statement quickly takes Lena aback, her face showing her shock with a prominent blush before she manages to school her features into something less affected.

“Another time then,” Lena says, in what seems like a promise, before clearing her throat and quickly reaching for the bottle of vodka for something to do. “For now though, you get free shots for being a brawler.” There are many arguments for Kara to not accept the offer but in the end the need to allow Lena her privacy and forget a little bit about her day wins out.

(Her liver could fight her tomorrow).

Ultimately it takes Lena a week to confide in Kara about her life - her incredibly different life beyond the walls of the bar. It makes Kara’s journey from work a whole new experience as she passes the Luthor Corp building, makes writing articles about new Luthor Corp tech feel a little weird when she knows that, despite Lena’s claims that she just runs a bar, Lex Luthor claims they owes half of their success to his recluse sister and her brain.

(Meeting Lex Luthor himself also adds a whole new layer to the frazzlement in her mind when he looks at her like he knows far more about her than he should a random reporter, when he looks at her pastel sweater with far more amusement than a man simply looking at basic clothing, when Snapper looks at her with true and complete shock that anyone in the office managed to actually get the exclusive from Lex Luthor that he demanded of them all because he only ever gave them out to friends).

It all makes Kara look at Lena in a new light, and somehow at the same time see her in the exact same way, as the exact same woman, as before. The kind of woman who had a wall of pictures commemorating bar fights but had cleaned more than a handful of wounds from ones that got a little too out of hand. The kind of woman who allowed street art to remain on the side of her building because everyone deserved to express themselves somehow. The kind of woman who knew what her smirk did to people and yet still blushed when Kara forgot her awkwardness enough to get the words out to compliment her.

(The kind of woman that Kara had a huge, flaming gay crush on.

She really needed to do something about that).

* * *

 

She’s not sure what compels her to invite Alex to the bar - a moment of stupidity maybe, a second in which she forgetfully ignores the fact that Alex can read her like a book (and a book aimed at second graders for that), or maybe it was simply a moment on panic in which Kara couldn’t think of a good excuse to refuse taking Alex to the bar she had been disappearing to for a couple months now.

It was a bad idea.

An idiotic idea.

But Kara couldn’t talk her way out of it and she couldn’t not go because apparently she had become quite accustomed to seeing Lena almost every night and because, well, because this was the first karaoke night she had been free to come to and she kinda couldn’t hold in her excitement. Excitement that was apparently held by more than just her because when Kara arrives to the bar she finds Alex already waiting for her with a grinning Sam and Winn by her side.

 _Great. Three people to ineffectively lie to_.

“Kara,” Alex says in a tone that suggests the drink in front of her isn’t her first, as she pulls Kara into a warm hug and presses a kiss to her cheek. “This isn’t your usual kind of haunt.” So she evidently hadn’t had enough alcohol to not be privy to what was going on here. Kara stops herself from doing her usual visual check for Lena, instead offers a smile to the group and hopes the way her eyes dart towards the bar every so often isn’t too surreptitious.

(It is).

“People are allowed to branch out sometimes,” Kara mumbles, leaning into Alex’s touch regardless of her teasing without any real thought as she looks towards the other two examining the bar like they’re trying to work out how they all ended up here. “Hey guys, glad you could come.”

“Like we were ever going to miss _kara_ oke,” Winn says, eyes drifting to Kara for just a moment before flittering back around his surroundings, “even if you did bring us somewhere we’re likely to get stabbed.” Sam immediately smacks him on the chest, her own rising and falling with quiet laughter. Almost as if on cue, Lena appears next to them behind the bar, like she’s somehow heard the comment and arrived to defend her... quaint establishment.

“Pastels, you came!” Lena says, seemingly genuinely happy to see Kara – enough so that Kara is too bewitched by her smile to see the way Alex mouths ‘ _Pastels?’_ to the other two.

“I brought friends.” Kara doesn’t really know why she blurts that out or why it comes out as loud as it does, but intent aside, it still does. She should’ve just ordered drinks in her best semi-casual tone. It’s not like it wasn’t obvious that these people were with her - Lena knew the regulars here like the back of her hand and she also knew that these people weren’t exactly her usual crowd.

That’s not to say that Alex didn’t blend in. Partially shaved head, well worn leather jacket and the general look in her eyes like she was willing to break into a fight whenever the opportunity arose, a look that said she wasn’t against bottling someone for the greater good. Sam wasn’t half bad either, relaxed enough in her tight black jeans and white shirt that she could blend almost anywhere. Winn though... Winn stood out arguably even more than Kara did the first time she was here with his own sweater and shirt ensemble, exuding his general aura of fear.

“ _Friends?_ ” Lena repeats and Kara takes the qualification to simply be Lena laughing at her for deciding to announce it, her embarrassment distracting her from noticing the way Lena’s eyes linger on the way Alex’s arm is wrapped around her shoulder with an air of familiarity, with a level of ease that speaks to the easeful tactile nature of their relationship.

“You got a drink order?” Lena continues with none of her usual warmth or flare, actively avoiding Kara’s gaze even as she desperately tries to catch it. Kara rattles off the drink order without much thought, her brain too busy running in circles about how the air shifted so quickly. As the drinks are placed in front of them the most Kara has managed to earn is a tight smile as she offers Lena a feeble thanks and allows herself to be lead by Alex to a booth in the back, facing away from the bar as Sam and Winn angle themselves towards it - both of them watching the bar curiously.

“Do you usually spend your time here being glared at by the bartender?” Sam asks, not even bothering to pretend she isn’t paying all of her attention to Lena. It’s brazen. Winn tries harder to pretend but he nods wildly at the question like it’s the exact thing he was also gearing up to ask.

“Who? Lena? No, she-“ Kara whips around sharply, eyeing the bar over Alex’s arm that’s resting on the booth just in time to catch sight of Lena quickly looking away and busying herself with rearranging random bottles on the shelf. It’s not sneaky. It’s shaky and heavy-handed and has none of the usual calm that Kara had come to know Lena exuding. “Is she really glaring?” Vulnerability pours into Kara’s words in a way she doesn’t mean to happen but can’t help.

“It’s a pretty intense stare,” Sam says, level and soft like she’s suddenly aware her words hold more weight than she originally thought they did.

“I don’t... we were- she was fine yesterday.”

“How often do you come here?” Alex questions, looking at Kara at for a moment and then allowing her eyes to skim around the bar like she’s trying to imagine how she fits into the scheme of things. The suspicion in her eyes suggests she’s not managing to paint a very clear picture.

“You know, when I’m passing.” Kara never just passes it. She, in fact, comes out of her way to come to this bar - would never venture into this part of town without a reason. That reason being her insanely large, arguably not well hidden infatuation. It’s a lie that settles poorly amongst the group but no one comments on that fact, simply biding their time, allowing their jokes to fester. “Maybe I should just go...”Kara’s left before she even finishes her sentence, wandering up to the bar on unsure but unfaltering feet.

“Need another drink?” The words are out before Kara has even fully stopped at the bar; effectively cutting off anything she intended to say. Not that she knew what she intended to say. She was mostly likely just going to wing it and hope for the best. Not that her best was good. She had a feeling today her best was particularly bad.

“No, I- are you alright?”

“Fine,” Lena waves off the concern, eyes still steadfastly looking over Kara’s shoulder like she’s trying to create the illusion of eye contact without having to actually give it as she repeats, “drinks?”

“No, I don’t need drinks.”

“I’m kind of busy then, Pastels.” She’s not. Kara can see that with a single glance around the room. It’s full enough, more people than usual filling the space for the event, but there’s no crowd at the bar, most people already having found their place for the evening and sipping on their drinks. A single man sits at the bar already seemingly passed out for the evening and snoring up a storm. And Lena, Lena is just drying glasses that don’t seem to have even a single droplet of water on them.

Still, Kara accepts the answer with a silent nod and a swift return to her seat. For a little while that is.

For a while she forces herself to stay in her chair, quietly sulking and wondering how Lena’s mood had flipped in the span of around thirty seconds. For a while not even a burly bearded man singing Cyndi Lauper can make her smile nor can the endless jokes Winn quips about the sight. For a while she sullenly sips on her drink and forgets to watch how many whiskeys Alex slams back.

And then Kara sees Lena disappear into the women’s bathroom and decides that, no, she wants answers, she _deserves_ answers, and stands from her seat to follow suit under the guise of signing Winn up for karaoke (which isn’t a total lie, she really does expect to return to him singing Toxic).

Kara all but storms across the room, too afraid to be timid in case she chickens out at the last moment, and half bursts, half falls into the bathroom as her body slams the door open. The wood clatters against the wall but Lena barely flinches as she stares into the mirror - her hand hanging limp on the counter, holding a lipstick that she was obviously applying before Kara’s theatrics.

She doesn’t turn as she spots Kara over her shoulder. In fact, Lena barely reacts at all to Kara behind her, instead choosing to simply eye Kara, emotionless and wordless, through the medium of the mirror, as Kara takes a moment to gather herself before helplessly asking “have I done something?”

There’s a pause for a moment before Lena’s shoulders sag and she sighs, “No, I was just stupid.” And suddenly Kara is somehow more confused than she’d been all evening, which was saying something because she feels like she’s been trying to put together a five-thousand piece puzzle of nothing but black pieces with the lights off since the moment she stepped inside the bar.

“Stupid about what?”

“Shouldn’t you get back to your girlfriend instead of following me around?” The words come out almost too quietly mumbled and more than a little bitter. Bitter enough that Kara finds herself feeling chastised until something seems to click with her.

“Girl- _girlfriend?_ ” _Did Lena think that Sam-_

“The redhead with her arms wrapped all around you, already back to pretending she doesn’t exist?” Lena’s angrier than Kara expected her to sound, angrier than she has ever seen her be - Kara had barely seen her scowl other than when kicking slimy frat guys that had found themselves in the bar out on their asses. It takes Kara aback when Lena spins towards her, tired of glaring by way of the glass and instead aiming it directly at Kara. She feels cold. And then it hits her...

“Alex-“

“I don’t need to know her name,” Lena interrupts.

“ _Alex,_ ” Kara emphasises again,”is my sister. I don’t- I’m single. Super single. There are no girls around me. At the moment. There have been. I do like gir— _the point is_ I’m single.” Kara stumbles but eventually remembers that she can stop talking whenever she wants. Maybe she should have chosen an earlier point, like directly after the first ‘single’ or maybe even just proactively after ‘sister’. That might have been nice.  Next time.

“You’re single.” Lena’s sigh almost completely swallows the words as they are whispered lowly, punctuated by the gradual reddening of Lena’s cheeks as she takes in the information. And, yes, Kara will admit that she has been called oblivious on occasion but she knows embarrassment when she sees it and for once everything just seems so obvious, like five-thousand tiny puzzle pieces just clicking into place - flipping from happy to annoyed, glaring at the back of her _and Alex’s_ heads, refusing to give anything but monosyllabic responses and avoided glances.

“And you’re jealous. Of my sister.” Kara can’t help but laugh as she says it out loud, as it settles both into the air between them and fully into her mind. Lena was jealous, actually jealous, and of Alex. _Alex._ Lena, on her part, tries to level Kara with a threatening look but mostly just looks like she’s berating herself for being an idiot, grumbling under her breath as Kara’s laughter subsides - it’s that adorable sight that makes Kara feel recklessly honest. “You’re the only reason I come here.”

“You don’t enjoy my fruity drinks?”

“Not as much as I enjoy you,” Kara cringes. “That was cheesy.”

“I didn’t hate it.”

“I’d like to try something else if you don’t think you’d hate it...” Kara trails off as she saunters closer. Lena seems taken aback by the movement, edging ever so slightly closer to the sink until she finds herself bumping into it - an action that makes Kara think all the bravery she displayed before this had dissipated in the face of this show of courage where she suddenly didn’t seem to know what to do other than wait and watch this unfold.

Kara steps closer.

A few more steps.

Plants her feet surely before using one to nudge Lena’s legs a little further apart and take a final step into the newly created space, leaving them chest to chest, brushing against one another with each in-tandem breath.

Kara vaguely notes the white knuckles decorating Lena’s hand as she clasps desperately at the counter before she takes her cue from Lena’s slightly parted lips and begins to slowly dip her head down to meet them with her own. She moves slowly. Slower than she wants considering how long she’s been waiting to do this but at a pace that gives Lena time to move away, even in spite of her position.

She doesn’t.

Her eyes close.

Kara pushes forward; their lips a hair’s breadth away and for a second she’s suspended in disbelief, allows herself a sharp inhale as their lips first brush in a wordless _holy shitballs_ moment, and then they’re kissing. Like _really_ kissing. Like ‘they shouldn’t be in some dirty public bathroom that anyone could just leisurely walk into at any moment’ kissing.

Wandering hands and persistent mouths. Teeth nipping and nails scraping. It’s different to every other first kiss Kara has had in her life and infinitely better - though Kara’s not sure if that’s simply because she’s been wondering what this would be like since the second she stumbled into this rundown bar or truly just the intoxicating mixture of Lena’s whiskey tongue and soft hands that become braver with every new connection of their lips.

She feels like she’s on fire, and also drowning, and maybe flying a little, but also like she’s never been more attuned to the ground beneath her feet in her life and a bunch of other metaphors for kissing that always seemed so strange until this second. To be more precise, the exact second that Lena moans into her mouth Kara is almost sure her brain could literally melt out of her ears and she would probably just let it happen if it meant her final few seconds of life were spent kissing Lena.

Courage builds as Kara pushes closer, almost daring Lena onto the inevitably wet counter behind her, losing herself so wholly in the moment that she only notices it’s ruined when a voice that is definitely not a delighted moan echoes around the room.

“Called it!” Alex calls out, presumably the moment she awkwardly bumbles into the room, and its seemingly aimed at no one at all until Kara hears one responding groan and a cheer from further into the bar and Kara immediately realises she’s become the subject of yet another bet between her friends - she never should have introduced Alex to Winn, she was too good at adopting stray siblings.

“Can you leave?”

“This is a public bathroom.”

“Al-“ Kara starts, stopping abruptly when a hand slips into the pocket of her pants and ends the movement with a deliberate squeeze. Lena’s blatantly smirking as she fills the space in the conversation Kara’s squeak obviously left behind, “have any drink you want, just lean over the bar.”

“I like this one, Kar.” The words are paired with a succinct nod like Alex truly believes her approval is the be all and end all (... she wasn’t entirely wrong) before she dips out with a slight bounce to her step like she can’t wait to be out of there and, with the promise of free booze, Kara knows only half of that is because she’ll be mentally scarred for a week having seen her sister in this position.

A position that Kara seems to suddenly remember she’s in as the door finally drifts closed and she feels soft peals of laughter puffed against her cheek, the gentle rumbles of a body chuckling against her own. She turns towards the sound, her nose brushing along Lena’s as the other woman leans in slightly, closing the ‘space’ they created in response to their impromptu audience.

It’s an oddly soft moment considering the fire in their kisses before - the calm after the storm, Kara thinks, despite the thunderous rumble still pounding in her chest.

“I have to say, Pastels, I didn’t think you had _this_ in you,” Lena says, breaking the silence with a smirk that looks a little too much like a gleeful grin to have its usual effect. Kara still finds herself off balance though as Lena shifts to place gentle kisses along her jaw, languidly mapping the area.

“Your tongue has been in my mouth, please call me Kara.”

“Let me take you on a date and I’ll call you whatever you want.”

“Deal,” Kara says without a second of hesitation, unable to appear anything less than extremely uncool and Lena smiles against her skin before kissing her again instead of replying.

They lose themselves in it for a while, not stopping until Alex comes in and tugs Kara into the main bar with an obviously drunk but extremely jovial, “ _duet time!”_ and Kara can’t stop grinning through the entire song as Lena whoops and cheers from behind the bar, a wide, infectious smile coated in red lipstick that definitely isn’t her own.

(It’s kind of the best day of her life...

She loved this shitty bar).


End file.
